


Waiting for the Night to Fall

by stellarmeadow



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-09
Updated: 2011-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/pseuds/stellarmeadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny knows Steve's going stir crazy in jail. So he fixes what he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for the Night to Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don't even know where this came from. Unbetaed, so I've only me to blame for mistakes.

Hours after lights out Steve lies on his back, holding himself still and quiet against the darkness, his hand clutching his lifeline as if someone might take it away. Who might do that when he's alone in his solitary cell, he doesn't know, but he clutches it all the same, despite the fact that as long as he doesn't actually talk, no one's going to hear anything to make them come investigate.

He's counting backwards in his head, having started with 600 seconds, and he's down to 354, 353, 352...fingers rhythmically clutching around the phone, waiting for zero. The phone that had mysteriously arrived with his lunch ten days ago, nothing but a post-it attached to it in Danny's familiar scrawl - _'Midnight. Hit send.'_

He had, and Danny had answered, his voice low, telling him he knew Steve couldn't talk without arousing suspicion, so just listen. Danny had talked about how they were working on getting Steve out, about other cases, about Grace's skinned knee--everything Steve would normally hear all day long at HQ and in the car and roll his eyes at, complaining loudly about Danny's babbling, and yet everything he'd missed most while crammed away in his little hole alone.

Danny's voice was getting hoarse by the time he said, "I have to go. Tomorrow night, same time. Hang in there."  

Steve had held the phone to his ear for a good five minutes after Danny hung up, before he pulled it away, turning it off and tucking it in a spot where it wouldn't be found. Nothing could touch him after that, not the solitude, not the threats of other inmates, not the snide comments of some of the guards, or even the kinder comments of the other guards. He lived in a bubble until midnight.  

When he took out the phone, he hit send the second the backlight numbers hit midnight, and Danny was there, talking again. More about Steve's case, and how Kono had managed to take down three guys without firing her weapon, and how Grace had lost a tooth on the monkey bars during recess, and spent an hour convinced by Tommy that because she knocked it out early, another one wouldn't grow in its place.  

Hoarse again by the time he finished, Danny ended with the same words: "I have to go. Tomorrow night, same time. Hang in there."  

Those hoarse words echoed in Steve's mind the rest of his waking hours. Sometimes he'd take the phone out and just stare at it for a while before putting it away again. The calls continued every night, a new battery for the phone showing up every four days, but Danny said nothing, of course, when he visited the prison, made no indication that they had ever talked other than in front of guards and cameras.  

Steve drank in the sight of him on those visits. Having heard most of what Danny was saying already, he spent more time memorizing the exact curve of Danny's hairline across his forehead and the way his slightly-undone tie and one open button showed just enough of a hint of his neck to make Steve's mouth water.  

He'd seen Danny today, spent a few minutes staring at Danny's hand where it gripped the phone, with only a few feet--and some very solid, unbreakable glass--between them, before deciding to try something. "I miss you," Steve said, his eyes holding Danny's.  

"Likewise," Danny said, softly, sounding more like he did during their nightly chats. Or, rather, Danny's nightly chat, Steve's nightly listen.  

"I want out of here," Steve said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.  

Danny blinked a few times before a hint of a smile appeared on his lips. "Out of here?" he said, mimicking Steve's gesture.

Steve nodded, making the same gesture again. It was the one he'd made the night he'd given in and hit on Danny, several beers and even more kisses later on the lanai, when he'd said, _"How about we go upstairs?"_ with that same jerk of the thumb.

 _"Seriously, the name Smooth Dog was a taunt, right?"_ Danny had said, making the same motion. " _You don't have a better line than that? Or is it that you think you're so hot I'll come crawling whenever you jerk your thumb?"_

Of course, he'd started pushing Steve toward the stairs before he'd even gotten to the second sentence, so Steve hadn't thought it really needed a response. It had been their own private joke ever since.

"I'll see what I can do," Danny said through the glass, his smile still in place. He went on with a story about Grace that Steve had heard the night before, but this time Steve had the chance to ask questions, the conversation feeling almost normal until the guards told them the time was up.

Steve had a mental countdown clock in his head, years of training making it almost habit to know the time without looking, and he allowed himself to start counting down the minutes after dinner, waiting for the night to fall, for the lights to go out, and midnight to roll around.

And now...5, 4, 3, 2, 1. He punches send and holds the phone up to his ear, waiting through barely one ring before Danny answers with a soft, "Hey, babe. It was good to see you. You look better. Our nightly therapy sessions must be helping."

His laugh makes Steve smile in response, warmth curling in his gut. "And you just had to go and pull that thumb move, huh? Good thing the cameras aren't trained on certain parts of me in there. Then again," Danny says, his voice darkening, "you don't really need a camera, do you? You've made a full study."

Steve's free hand reaches down, palming his dick over his boxers, remembering the angles of Danny's dick, how it curves upward, the way it jerks when Steve runs his tongue around the head. "God, I wish you were here," Danny says, and Steve can tell by the whisper of a zipper and the soft sigh that Danny's taking himself in hand. "Your bed is nice and all, but it wasn't the main attraction here. And it's not nearly as good without you in it."

Closing his eyes, Steve can picture Danny lying on their bed (he'd stopped thinking of it as his months ago), the phone propped between his cheek and shoulder, his hand lazily stroking his dick. "My hand isn't anywhere near as good as yours, either. Or even close to your mouth...." Danny's voice gets lower, rougher. "God, your mouth...." The last word is almost a groan, and it goes straight to Steve's dick, making him push up into his hand, and he shoves his boxers down impatiently, wetting his hand before wrapping it around his dick.

"I want you here so much," Danny says, the timbre of his voice making Steve's dick jump. "Want your mouth, want you sucking me until you can barely breathe, until you forget how to live without my dick in your mouth."

Steve can't quite stop the hitch in his breath, biting down on his lower lip and grasping for his control. His hand moves on his dick, and Danny's voice continues in his ear. "You'd make me nice and wet, get me so hard, and then I'd flip you over onto your hands and knees, until you're gripping the headboard, just waiting for me to take you."

"Do you have _any_ idea how gorgeous you look like that?" Danny asks, sounding wrecked now. "Naked and open, just waiting for me to fuck you for as long as I can? If Rodin was alive he'd pay money to sculpt you like that, I swear to _God_...."

Danny's breath has its own hitch, and Steve recognizes that change in Danny's breathing, feels his own hand speed up in response. "But as good as you look," Danny says, his voice taking on that slightly strangled quality that makes Steve's balls tighten in anticipation, "it has nothing, absolutely nothing, on how you feel. My dick sliding into you, your ass closing around me, pulling me in...it's like dying a little every time because that's gotta be what Heaven is like, babe."

Fuck. Steve's hand is tight around his dick now, his teeth almost cutting into his lower lip from holding back everything he wants to say. He wants Danny inside him, wants hot, sweaty skin against his, but even this, after nearly two weeks alone, is so good that he's not going to last much longer.

"And those sounds you make, babe...porn's got nothing on you. You have this noise you make every time, just before you come...that noise has been haunting my dreams, Steven. You've fucking ruined me for anyone else, you realize that?"

Steve chokes back a laugh before it can escape his throat, his hand moving faster. He's ruined Danny? Danny has more than ruined Steve; he's demolished him. Tore down every defense the military had instilled in Steve's head and remade him completely, and he doubts Danny even knows. But he needs to. One day.

"God, just picturing you jacking yourself, it's...when I get you home, I'm going to make you do it while I can watch, not just imagine. I want to see you fall apart, see you come when I can enjoy the show. And then I want to clean you up slowly. With my tongue."

The thought of Danny's tongue lapping come off Steve's stomach does him in, and Steve lets go, coming hard into his hand, the phone pressed between his ear and the pillow, his teeth digging into his lower lip to keep him from making a sound.

His eyes still closed, Steve catches his breath, noticing Danny's gone silent. Or, rather, he's stopped talking. Steve can still hear him breathing, knows that particular pattern, knows Danny's close. He hears Danny fall over the edge with a groan that makes Steve's spent dick twitch tiredly.  

Steve's breathing is almost back to normal when Danny speaks again. "I swear, I'd never have thought I was a cuddler," Danny says, a rueful tone to his voice, "but I think I miss you even more after."

Swallowing hard, Steve pushes the ache in his chest down deep and tries to lock it away, pulling up vague memories of training on how to do just that. He mostly succeeds, or so he tells himself. "Your pillow will have to do--at least it still smells like you," Danny says, his voice slurring, and Steve knows from experience Danny will be asleep in mere minutes.  

"I have to go," Danny says, the words creating the now familiar ache in Steve's throat. "Tomorrow night, same time. Hang in there." There's a short pause, then, softer. "Danno loves you."

The call disconnects, but Steve holds the phone there for another minute before he turns off the phone, then turns onto his side, the phone pressed into the pillow that he wraps his arms around as he falls asleep.  

\---

END 

**Author's Note:**

> Want to learn more about me and my writing? Visit my page at <http://www.jamiemeadowswrites.com/>


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